How the Witch Stole Christmas!
by Iolanthe 8
Summary: A Christmas-y crossover, with apologies to Dr. Seuss and DWJ. Rated T for mild implied language.


Everybody in Ingary  
Liked Christmas a lot.  
But the Witch,  
Who'd been kicked out of Ingary,  
Did not.

The Witch hated Christmas!  
The whole Christmas season!  
Now, please don't ask why.  
No one quite knows the reason.  
It could be her head  
Wasn't screwed on just right.  
It could be they got  
Her last face-lift too tight.  
But I think the likeliest reason, by far:  
She had given her heart  
To a cruel fallen star.

But whatever the reason,  
Her heart or her face,  
The Witch hated the annual  
Yuletide rat-race,  
Staring out from the Waste  
With a sour Witchy frown  
At the warm lighted windows  
In every town.

"They're hanging their stockings!"  
She snarled with a sneer.  
"Tomorrow is Christmas!  
It's practically here!"  
With her long sharp red fingernails  
Nervously clacking,  
Said she, "I'll find some way  
To send Christmas packing!"

Then, "I've got it!" she cried.  
"With this illusion spell,  
I'll create a disguise  
So that no one can tell  
That I'm not Mrs. Claus;  
Sneak in quietly, very,  
And steal every present.  
Make Christmas un-merry!"

So she conjured an elf-hat,  
Coat and mini-skirt, red,  
Each trimmed in white fur.  
Then she conjured a sled.

"All I need is a reindeer."  
The Witch looked around;  
There were none in that world,  
So no reindeer was found.

Did that stop the old Witch?  
Dear, no. Don't be silly.  
She tied big fuzzy antlers  
On her fire demon, Lily.

Lily felt quite exploited,  
Being hitched to a sled.  
"I am _so_ going to  
Get her for this," Lily said.

Then the Witch said, "Giddap!"  
Up the slope gently slipping,  
They rode to the heath  
Just above Market Chipping.

The village was dark.  
Quiet snow filled the air  
As they came to the house  
Just beyond Market Square,  
Where the three Hatter girls  
Dreamed sweet dreams without care.

"This is stop number one!"  
The fake Witchy-Claus hissed.  
And she climbed to the roof,  
Evil spells in her fist.

She got stuck in the chimney—  
Too tight for the Witch.  
Muttered Lily, "Why don't you lose  
Thirty pounds, b--?"

She got all the way down,  
Though her face had turned blue.  
Then she stuck her head  
Out of the fireplace flue  
Where the Hatter girls' stockings  
All hung in a row.  
"These stockings," she said,  
"Are the first things to go."

Then she slithered and slunk  
With a smile most unpleasant,  
Around the whole room,  
And she took every present!

There was perfume for Lettie,  
New combs for her hair,  
A sparkling gold necklace,  
A new frock to wear.

For Sophie, new scissors,  
And needles and thread,  
Three novels, two histories,  
And a quilt for her bed.

For Martha, the youngest,  
With a fortune to seek,  
Cotton aprons and undies  
For each day of the week.

The Witch made them all vanish!  
Then quick as a wink  
Hit the closets—she even  
Took Fanny's faux mink!

Then she transported up  
Through the chimney with glee,  
Pausing only to hijack  
The wreath and the tree!

It was quarter past dawn  
When the Witch, in great haste,  
With Lily the reindeer  
Returned to the Waste.

But she'd left off a listening-in spell  
At Chez Hatter,  
Eager to hear the girls'  
Christmas hopes shatter.  
"They'll wail and they'll weep!  
They'll shriek at the sight,"  
She told Lily. "They'll get in  
A juicy cat-fight!  
And that is a sound  
That I really must hear!"  
She added.

Then, putting a hand to her ear,  
She listened in horror  
As there came, clear and bright,  
The three lovely Hatter girls'  
Squeals of delight,  
The crinkling of gift-wrap,  
The crackling Yule fire  
(Which, had she but seen it,  
Was blue and quite jolly,  
Munching pungent pine needles  
And crunchy bright holly),  
And old carols sung  
By an impromptu choir—  
Four warbling Hatters,  
A tenor, a bass,  
And one other  
Who wandered  
All over the place.

And the Witch and her fire demon  
Stood in the Waste,  
Looks of sour disappointment  
On each ravaged face.

"Wait a minute!" cried Lily.  
I thought I heard _men!"_

Yes, those three manly wizards,  
Howl, Michael, and Ben,  
Had magicked the egg nog,  
The wreath and the tree,  
The gifts they had brought  
For the fair sisters three,  
The gifts that the girls bought  
For Fanny, their mother  
(Or step-), and the things  
They all got for each other—  
Right back down the chimney.  
They'd re-hung the wreath  
And put back the tree,  
With the presents beneath.

While the Witch of the Waste  
And her fire demon Lily,  
Were doomed to a Christmas  
Both bitter and chilly.

But our three noble wizards  
Remembered the pair,  
And gifts soon came winging  
Through the dry Waste-y air:  
Lily got _Chicken Soup_  
_For the Fire Demon Soul,_  
But the Witch got a stocking  
All full of Welsh coal.

And in fair Market Chipping,  
Old and young, short and tall,  
Raise a glass to your health:  
"Merry Christmas to All!"


End file.
